Lost All Resistance
by HC247
Summary: Hours before her wedding, Pocahontas encounters one man she never thought she'd see again. Saucy fluff. high T.


**Yes, I'm still here! Although much has happened since I last posted something here (Check out my profile)**

**Concerning this story, all I have to say is that I thought the fandom could use a bit of sauce. especially sauce which helps to rectify the trainwreck of a sequel.**

** Oh, and this is all Sunrise's fault. Girl, you know I love you, but this is entirely your doing. ( I still expect you to review;))**

**I hope you enjoy! And review :)**

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><p>"Oh, Rebecca, how lovely you look!"<p>

"A dream, certainly. Why, my Johnny is a lucky man."

"Your gown is exquisite! Whoever was your dressmaker?"

The young woman gave an indulgent smile to her host of admirers as they fawned over her. How lucky indeed. She knew their intentions were only the best, but they constant chatter and numerous bodies crammed into the small antechamber suddenly felt suffocating. Craning her neck, her eyes sought the tiny balcony and she mentally calculated how quickly she could arrive there.

Thankfully, her salvation came in the form of the matronly housekeeper. "Now, girls, girls. I know all of you are as excited as I am to see our Becky here off and married, but if you don't give the poor dear some room to breath, we'll be carrying her down the aisle rather than walking. Come now, out! Give the poor dear some space."

The native woman cast a thankful smile at the older woman, "I didn't know how to politely excuse myself."

Giving an unladylike snort, Mrs. Jenkins shooed the last overeager girl from the room before answering, "Sometimes, politeness ain't got nothing to do will it. Sometimes, a good kick in the behind is all that will do the job." Coming up behind her, the woman tipped her head to the side before smoothing a piece of ebony hair into place. "Them girls were right about one thing, though. You're as pretty as a picture, Miss. You'll knock my Johnny's sock clean off his feet."

Chuckling, the younger woman turned to face the older, "And we both know I couldn't have done it without you."

"Oh, get on with you now," Mrs. Jenkins kissed her cheek before ambling out of the room. "Now, you just relax, you hear me? We can't have a nervous bride." Stopping in the doorway, she gave one last smile. "You look beautiful, honey. Right, beautiful."

Pocahontas, _no Rebecca. My name is Rebecca_,_ now_, watched her go. Smiling slightly to herself, she turned back to her reflection in the mirror. A stray tendril of hair had worked itself loose from her elaborate style and frowning, she attempted to replace it correctly, only to have it slip away again.

"I can't go out there like this," she muttered into the mirror. "A lady is always perfectly groomed. Why, I would be mortified. What would John say?"

"He'd say leave it be."

She spun, a yelp of surprise caught somewhere in her throat. Eyes wide, she managed to choke out, "What- What are you doing?"

John Smith lent casually against the open door to the room, a sarcastic smirk on his handsome face. "Come now, Pocahontas. Aren't you glad to see me?"

She shook her head. "The last I heard, you were somewhere in the East Indies," It was said more to herself than him. "You should be miles from England by now."

The Captain's brow rose slightly. "So you've been keeping track of me, have you? I'm flattered."

"What are you doing here, Captain Smith?"

The brow climbed high on his forehead. "Such formality. Come now, Pocahontas. I thought we knew one another better than that."

"My name is Rebecca," she replied, curling her hands into fists at her sides. "And you still haven't answered my question."

He shrugged slightly. "I simply came to offer my best wishes to the bride," Pushing off the doorway, he advanced on her, "Or is it my condolences?"

"Why, you-" Her nails bit further into her palms as she restrained herself from slapping the cocky smirk off of his handsome face. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, willing herself to maintain a sense of decorum. A lady never let her anger show. "Please leave, John," she said softly, we have nothing left to say to one another."

She turned way then, only to see him approach behind her in the mirror. "Like hell we don't," he growled, coming to stand behind her. "Look at you, Pocahontas. This is not who you are. Are you truly happy with what you're about to do?"

"Of course I am," she replied automatically, refusing to meet his eyes and instead concentrated on replacing the renegade strand of hair. "John loves me and I love him. It's as simple as that." She gave a frustrated sigh as her escaped once again. "Why can't I fix this!"

"You see? That's exactly what I mean," John swatted her hand away and instead pulled the pins from her hair, sending it cascading down her back like a raven taking flight. "The girl I knew could have cared less about having every strand of hair in place."

Horrified, she wrenched away from him, desperately attempting to pin the ebony mane back in place. "What have you done?" she cried, piling strand after strand atop her head. "I'm getting married in less than an hour. I can't be late. John will be furious."

"Ah, yes, the sainted Rolfe. Remind me, what caused you to ever consider him for a husband?" Picking up a hairpin, the captain twirled it between his fingers. "Seems kind of dry, if you ask me."

Pocahontas glanced at him in the mirror, hands still working the style. "He's a perfect gentleman. He would never do anything to hurt me."

"I never said he wouldn't" Coming to his feet, John came to stand behind her once again. "I just don't understand what happened to you, Pocahontas. The girl I fell in love with would never be satisfied with the docile life you're about to accept. What happened to your passion, your love of life." He sighed, almost in defeat. "What happened to us?"

"That girl is gone, John," she said gently. "She disappeared years ago. Time changes things, people too. I'll always care for you, you know that. But this…" she turned to him, smiling gently. "This is my path, now."

"Are you certain of that?" Placing a finger lightly under her chin, he tipped her face up to his. "Are you truly certain? Because, if you are, I swear I'll turn around and walk out of here and never look back, I promise you that. But if you're not…" He smiled slightly, giving her a glimpse of the man she had once know. "If you're not, then say the word and I'll take you far away from here. Tell me, Pocahontas…"

"Rebecca," she whispered, senses reeling at his touch after all of this time.

He ignored her. "Pocahontas, tell me and maybe, just maybe, we can have our second chance."

She swallowed thickly, pulling away from his touch and turning away to gaze at her reflection again. True, the woman staring back at her was not someone she recognized. Not at all. How easy it would be to forget all she had learned, how far she had come. How wonderfully tempting her old life beckoned and all it would take was one, tiny word to be whisked away into what might have been. How easy, How fantastically simple, how…

…wrong. No

"No," she spoke it aloud this time. "This is who I am, now."

Shaking her head, she brushed past John and opened the door, standing beside it. "I won't do that, John. I'm asking you; please leave."

The captain raised his eyes to the ceiling, giving a disbelieving laugh. "Unbelievable." However, he did as she asked, walking out of the room. Pausing in the hallway, he said, "I was sure she was in there, somewhere, the girl that I used to know. I mean no offense, _Rebecca_," the name dripped with sarcasm, "But frankly, I don't like the woman who stands before me now. Should Pocahontas ever care to replace here, tell her I'll be waiting."

He brushed past her without another word.

He was taking her heart with her, she suddenly realized. She knew she shouldn't, but as he disappeared down the hallway, she knew that if he left, any hope they ever might have had would disappear with him. "John, wait!"

He paused at the top of the stairs, watching her, "Yes?"

Biting her lip, she hesitated. She was nearly a married woman, for heaven's sakes. What on earth was she thinking, calling out to him like this, but a part of her wanted to know.

She needed to know.

"Well?" His beautiful voice called her out of her trance. "What is it?"

"Why didn't you write to me?"

His eyes widened. "What?"

She advanced him, finding her anger growing with every step. "Why, John Smith? Why didn't you write to me? I waited five years for you! Five long, lonely years without one letter!" She shook her head, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "I gave you five years for you to do this and you choose now, of all time. Well, it's too late." She shrugged, meeting his eyes before turning away. "It's too late."

He reached for her, "Pocahontas…"

"No!" She rounded on him then, eyes blazing. "No, John. You don't get to stand here and make excuses. It wasn't over for me! I _loved_ you! Day after day, I waited for something_, anything_, to let me know you were alright. Nothing came. Nothing, John. What was I supposed to do?"

His voice was calm. "I did write you."

She stopped, tears clinging to her lashes. "You wrote to me?"

He nodded. "Every day for two years."

She turned away. "Then why didn't I-"

He understood. "It was only after we said good-bye at the palace that I realized they'd never been sent. I promise you, Pocahontas. I never forgot you."

She was still grasping to comprehend the situation. "You wrote me…"

"Yes," John affirmed, grasping the staircase to keep himself from hauling her into his arms. He shook his head, letting go. "It wasn't over." He caught her gaze, blue meeting brown. "It still isn't over…"

In four long strides, he had crossed the hall and had her in his arms. Pocahontas gasped as he seized her, lips crashing against her mouth as his arms came around her in a vice-like grip. Over and over he kissed her, like a parched man quenching his thirst with the sweetest water he had ever tasted. God, he'd missed her. Forgot how wonderful she felt wrapped in his embrace, how sweet she tasted under his lips. If this was heaven, he wanted it.

"John…" Her voice was a throaty whisper as he moved from her mouth to sample the flesh of her neck, taking his time to press, slow, soft kisses there, letting his lips linger. Somewhere in the haze, he realized he'd settled them quite comfortably against the wall of the hallway, bodies pressed closely together. Pocahontas was running her fingers through his golden hair, breathing deeply. "We…we should stop. This isn't right." Even as she spoke, her eyes fell closed as his lips found the hollow of her throat. "we're…not right…"

He gave a low laugh as he rested his head against her collarbone. "Now, Pocahontas. You don't believe those words any more than I do. I know you love me." He shifted slightly, pressing himself tighter against her and smiling as her head fell back against the wall at the contact, allowing him access to the column of her throat. Tilting her head to meet his eyes, his smile challenged her. "Dare you deny me?"

"Spirits forgive me," she murmured, before she kissed him again. Pushing away from the wall, they stumbled together down the remainder of the hallway and into the room, pausing only briefly to lock the door behind them. In an instant she was back in his arms, clutching him to her, needing to feel, needing to remember who she was.

It was John who pulled away first, smirking slightly when Pocahontas gave a small, indignant cry. "Patience, love," he added with a chuckle, kissing her forehead. "Tonight is ours. Tonight… you're mine." Pointing a finger to the floor, he commanded, "Turn"

She obeyed, her breath catching when she felt his hands at the buttons on her wedding gown. Pressing a kiss to the base of her neck, John set to work, his nimble fingers freeing one after another. Pocahontas heard him curse behind her and giggled softly. "Are we having a little trouble, captain?"

"How do you get out of these blasted things? Too much", he muttered. Too much for a man like him. Too much need, too little time. Finally, blessedly, after what seemed like half an eternity, she felt the kiss of the evening air as he spread the gown apart, planting a kiss to the top of her spine, sending shivers down her back. Grinning, she turned to face him, shrugging out of the gown and letting it fall to the floor.

Stepping out of it, Pocahontas gave him no chance to respond before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him deeply, letting him know how much she loved him, how much she wanted him. Surprised by her forwardness, John was unable to do anything but return her kiss, happy to feel her in only a thin cotton shift rather than the thick layers of satin and lace that had separated them before.

Pocahontas pulled away then, capturing him with her eyes, and he stood, mesmerized and completely powerless, as her small hands divested him of his waistcoat, followed closely by the fine linen shirt he had carefully selected, now laying in a heap on the floor with her gown. Catching her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of it before guiding her trembling fingers over every contour of his chest. She brought her other hand to join the one he held and together, she memorized every taunt muscle and ridge that made up his body, a deep intimate knowledge that she had never known of a man and would never want to with anyone else.

Needing to feel his arms around her again, she rose on tiptoe to kiss him, whispering in his ear, "Take me, John." She accentuated her point with a kiss. "Make me yours."

His answer was a soul-bending kiss. He swept her into his arms, nearly dropping her as her legs came around his waist. They fell together onto the bed, a mess of tangled, grasping limbs and short, gasping breaths. Laying Pocahontas out before him, John positioned her arms above her head, ignoring her questioning gaze and pressing a burning kiss to her swollen lips. "Trust me," he whispered, eyes gleaming, but he kissed her again. One hand holding her arms in place, the other drifted down her side until it reached mid-calf to where the hem of her shift fell.

Grasping the soft fabric, his fingers began to dance up her leg, taking the shift with them. His lips caressed hers over and over as his hand glided up her calf, over her knee, coming to rest softly just below her hip. With an evil grin, John left her mouth momentarily to press a kiss to her inner thigh. Pocahontas felt her breath seize in her chest when his lips made contact with her skin, hand grasping nothingness, needing to touch him as well.

Thankfully, he returned to her lips again, kissing her slowly, deeply, momentarily allowing her hands to wrap around his shoulders as she shifted underneath him, painfully aware of how much she wanted him. What John didn't count on, however, was her ability to reverse the situation so quickly.

Before he could even comprehend her actions, he found himself lying beneath her, staring up into her soulful brown eyes. A mischievous smile lit her face as she bent down to kiss him, her body hovering precariously close over his. He gripped her waist attempting to pull the shift from her body, but she stopped him with a kiss to the check. "Not yet," she whispered, "It's my turn, now."

He lay back with a frustrated growl, drawing a chuckle from the woman above him. "All good things to those who wait," she admonished.

"Don't you think we've waited long enough?" His voice was strained, the growl morphing into a ragged moan as she kissed his chest.

She laughed again, lips still against his skin. "I want to remember this, remember you." She met his eyes, heart quickening when she saw the hunger within them. "I love you, John Smith." Not giving him a chance to respond, she immediately resumed work on his torso, placing kiss after maddeningly soft kiss from the base of his neck all the way down his muscular chest to his toned abs. His fingers followed her lips, outlining the well-defined muscles under the smooth, white skin.

Eyes wide, he watched with a new fascination as his dark-haired beauty placed a teasing kiss to his stomach, causing his to shiver under her touch. She grinned, snaking her hand between them, working the belt on his trousers, her trembling fingers no doubt seeking another place on his skin. Swallowing to regain some sort of control, the captain clutched her shoulders, hauling her up his body to kiss her as he shifted them so, once again, she lay beneath him.

Grinning evilly, he stated, "You can't have all the fun."

Before Pocahontas could comprehend words, John was everywhere. He captured her lips in a steamy kiss, leaving her breathless. His pelvis pressed hard against her hips, his left hand stroking every part of her body, while the other attempted to divest her of her shift, edging it up around her hips in a series of frenzied movements.

"John…" Pocahontas whispered, her voice raw with desire, struggling to separate her lower body from his. "John..wait." He met her eyes, a thousand questions, mainly, her sanity at the present moment, there in his blue eyes. She smiled softly, "Let me."

He didn't answer, only kissed her again as her hands moved to help him. Together, the rest of their clothing was thrown away, leaving them laying flesh to flesh with one another. Pocahontas sighed deeply, pulling his body down to hers so she could feel him fully.

Chuckling at her satisfied groan, he pressed her down into the mattress, relishing the delicious sensation of her full breasts crushed against his chest as he did so. "I take it you're pleased?"

She opened her eyes to look at him, small beads of perspiration forming on his brow and she combed her finger through his yellow hair. "I just…can't believe were finally here. Together." She shook her head, faint tears forming at the corner of her eyes. "We should have been here years ago. If only I hadn't.." her voice caught and she closed her eyes, turning her head away.

"Hey, now,' he whispered, leaning in to kiss the tears away as they slipped down her cheeks. "Now or years ago, it doesn't matter anymore. The point is that we're here, now. Together now." Cradling her face in his hand, he turned her eyes to his, gazing deeply at her to get his point across. "All that matters is that you're here with me, right now. This moment. And finally," he chuckled, "_Finally_, I will make love to the woman I've never forgotten, never stopped loving." Smiling down at her, he kissed again, fiercely to drive the point home. "I love you, Pocahontas. I always have," Another deep kiss to her lips. "I always will."

She said nothing, simply tugged his head down to give him a heart-stopping kiss, granting him the permission he ad craved for so long. Blindly, his hand found the gentle curve of her hips, grasping them as his lips found the swell of her breasts. Pocahontas struggled for breath, winding her fingers through his hair, placing one palm on his heaving chest, feeling his heartbeat, finding comfort in the strong, steady rhythm.

Above her, John mimicked her earlier actions, trailing kisses down her body, creating a path for his hands to follow. Pocahontas felt her head fall back against the pillows, body arching upward, wanting to be closer, needing him to touch her. Unconsciously, her hips began to rock against him, letting him know what she wanted, twisting her body in a desperate attempt to satisfy something only he could.

"John…" His name was dragged from her lips in a ragged moan, "Oh, God, John, please.." she begged, not knowing quite what it was she was begging for. "Please.."

He gave a deep, throaty laugh, kissing her fiercely. "Tell me, love," he whispered close to her ear, "Tell me what you want."

She grit her teeth, torn between wanting to slap him and ravage him at the same time. "You know," she bit out, "Very well what I want." Grasping handfuls of hair in her hands, she pulled his face down to her lips. "You," she gasped, her breath coming in quick, short gasps. "John, please," she whispered, bringing his hand and replacing it on her breast. "Touch me."

He chuckled again, dragging his fingers along her silken skin, watching with stormy eyes as she arched into him again. "Is that all?" Grasping her hips, he rocked, slowly, deliberately against her, drawing a shallow, gasping breath from her lips. He took his time, seducing, teasing, torturing her. He'd waited too long to rush this.

Beneath him, she shook her head. "Take me," she begged again. Pressing a forceful kiss to his lips, she whispered, "Make love to me, John. Please. I've waited so long. Make me feel alive again."

This time, he finally did as she asked. They forgot the world that night, taking time to memorize one another, making up for all of the time they'd lost. Even then, they wouldn't remember the hours to come exactly, simply precious moments that would forever etched themselves in their minds

Kissing one another feverishly

_Grasping, clutching, caressing. "God, I want you…"_

Easing legs apart, copper meeting cream

_Anticipation, pain, pleasure. "Finally."_

Moving together to the beating of their hearts

_Moaning, Arching, Gasping. "Stay with me, love"_

Tension building within them, followed by blessed release.

_Shifting, claiming, touching. "I love you"_

After, John pulled her close into the curve of his body, pressing a lingering kiss to her swollen lips. "How have we never done that before?" he mused, drawing her to him.

"Mmm..I don't know," Pocahontas glanced up at him, a satisfied smile blooming on her lips. Snuggling closer she pressed a kiss to his chest, then his lips, an impish grin lighting her eyes. "Let's do it again."

In the hall, Mrs. Jenkins paused outside the door of Rebecca's room. Pressing an ear to the oak door, her eyes widened at the muffled sounds of what could only be lovemaking coming from the other side. She heard the girl laugh suddenly, and a smile pricked at her lips despite herself. "Well, she said, turning away. "I suppose we won't be having a wedding today after all."

She paused again at the top of the stairs, her smile fading to a frown. "Now what on earth am I supposed to do with all that food?"


End file.
